The Future Diary
by L-chan the Great
Summary: Matthew has always been invisible, a bystander, until a gift from his "imaginary" friend throws him into a world of violence, betrayal, and fear. Now it's kill or be killed, and those he trusts most become those he should fear. Based off of Mirai Nikki.
1. Prologue: The Beginning

**Welcome to my new story, The Future Diary. Some of you may know it as Mirai Nikki. It's one of my new favorite manga.**

**Now, if you've read Mirai Nikki, then everything will seem crazily similar to you, although I'll do my best to change some of it. I hope you understand that it's a little hard to stray from the original with the complicated plot and storyline.**

**If you haven't read Mirai Nikki, if you don't want my writing to ruin the manga for you, go read it first. It's not necessary to enjoy this story however.**

**Almost all the characters have been changed, except for a couple, which in this chapter are Deus and Murmuru.**

**Remember:**

**Matthew Williams: Canada**

**Canada's mom: Joan of Arc (just Joan here, though)**

**Anyway, enjoy~!**

* * *

><p><strong>Prologue: The Beginning<strong>

Her lips were so hot against his—so wrong, but so right at the same time—and the metal so cold against his back. His overwhelmed mind spun sickeningly. This was all too much! Just an hour ago, everything was completely normal, and now he was going to die!

_She _was going to kill him!

Even with this knowledge, all he could register was the mind-numbing fear of death and, strangely, how soft her plump lips were against him. Was this how it was going to end? With his first and last kiss, over in a flash.

He couldn't understand any of it!

'I have a dart with me.'

His head pounded with the sudden realization. He remembered the almost insignificant weight in his right hand. His fingers were lightly curled around the small, weighted dart, perfectly poised to stab her—to kill her before she could kill him. He could live, simply by swinging his arm forward while she was distracted.

'That's right. It will be all over if I just stab her with this,' he thought.

So why couldn't he do it?

As if reading his thoughts, she broke away, a smile playing on her lips, swollen from her sudden kiss.

"You didn't stab me," she whispered, her rough, but not unpleasant hands, cupping the sides of his face. "That is the _future_."

* * *

><p><strong>*One Week Earlier*<strong>

4/21/20xx (High School Class 2-B)

"This is bad, our reputation is at stake here," one of the boys in the group behind Matthew was whispering. He wasn't paying much attention to them, though, as he busily typed on the cell phone hidden underneath his desk.

"Fine then, let's just ask anyone to fill in!" said the captain of the basketball team. Matthew didn't know his name, but understood what was wrong. The problem was that one of their players was out sick, just before some big game, with no ready stand-in to replace him.

The team captain scanned the room. There lay the second problem. The group had spent too much time discussing the issue, and now most of the class had already filed out of the classroom, eager to leave for home or whatever it was the students did after school ended.

His eyes landed on Matthew Williams, still sitting at his desk. Even as scrawny as the half-French boy was, they just needed someone, _anyone_, to stand in for their missing player. Even Matthew. "Hey, Matt, are you—?" he began to ask, stepping forward.

On of the others quickly stopped him with a hand on the captain's arm. "Don't!" he hissed warningly.

Matthew pretended not to notice the exchange, his eyes focused down on his cell phone. "Finished my homework," he typed out. Finished, he stood and left, without looking back at the group of boys who had almost invited him to play basketball.

Once Matthew left the classroom, the boy who'd stopped the captain from inviting him heaved a sigh of relief. "It's hard to get along with Matthew. He always has his cell phone with him," he explained.

The captain furrowed his eyebrows, still confused as to what a cell phone had to do with getting along with others. "Really? What game is he playing?" he asked slowly, trying to follow the explanation.

His friend shook his head. "Oh, no, you've got it all wrong. He's writing a _diary_," he said, emphasizing the word 'diary', as if there was something seriously wrong with the concept of a boy writing one.

The captain still felt confused. He kept a diary himself, so he didn't understand the problem with Matthew keeping one. Unless the quiet boy isolated himself from others for the sake of it.

Actually, the boy thought, he probably heard something about Matthew Williams keeping detached from others. So _that_ was the problem, not the diary itself.

In any case, they needed to find a new player quickly, and the more time he spent on trivial issues, the less likely anyone decent and willing would still be on campus. He hastily pushed the thoughts from his head with a light shake. "Let's go ask Lovina, or Antonio. They're pretty good players."

The others laughed. "A _girl_, boss?"

"Hey, hey, watch it! She'll kick all of your asses if she hears you dissing her!"

* * *

><p>After only 15 minutes since the bell rang, the world seemed drastically emptier of students. That suited Matthew, as he walked home alone, like he usually did, immersing his mind in the things he saw around him that day. He idly scrolled through his latest journal entries; from this morning to just before he left school.<p>

Even if he'd acted as if he hadn't heard those boys talking, he actually had listened to every hushed word. There was a painful ping in his chest that he _hadn't_ been asked to play basketball. It seemed like things like that happened a lot to the invisible Matthew Williams.

Then again, he supposed it was all his fault that he now lived a life isolated from others, like he was simply a bystander—observing the world without actually being a part of it.

Back in elementary school, kids asked him to play with them all the time. But he'd always been too shy, self-conscious about his strange, thick glasses and tangled pale hair that seemed to be unable to decide if it was dirty blond or light brown. Plus the others always pulled at the strange piece of hair that curled away from the rest of his head in an odd kink, making him squeal with the overwhelming, unfamiliar sensations it caused.

So Matthew always declined, and soon enough he stopped receiving invitations to play. The world recognized one who simply did not actively belong in life, and shut him out accordingly. Now a high-schooler, he was, for all intents and purposes, invisible, watching the others through the glass walls that separated him from the rest, his violet-blue eyes always aware of all but himself.

Wrapped in his thoughts, he arrived at the small obstacle he ran into every day to and from school—a small rock in the middle of the sidewalk, separating the path into two converging roads. He stared at it thoughtfully for a few moments.

"I'll take the right today," he said to himself, and continued on his way, without anyone to note the deliberate choice he had just made.

To others, a rock may not seem like much, but to Matthew, the simplest decisions were always the biggest. It intrigued him how little changes—little twists of fate—could affect one's entire future. Not that he'd know if anything he did changed his future anyway, but it was entertaining to think about.

His fascination with the way people changed the course of their future every day led him to begin writing this diary on his cell phone, all from a bystander's view, as suited his position in the world. It didn't change anything, but it still made him feel easy.

A few minutes later, he finally arrived home. "Bonjour, maman!" he called in French as he stepped through the front door.

His mother poked her head out of the kitchen, drying a large mixing bowl, making him wonder if she'd made any sweets that day. She wore a sweet smile on her kind face. She was a pretty blond woman who looked so much different from awkward Matthew that he found it hard to believe that he was related to such a beautiful person.

"Welcome back, Mattie, dear. You're French is getting so good now. You sound just like your father!" she praised affectionately, the slightest bit of a French accent in her voice, pure blue eyes twinkling.

Matthew smiled, a happy blush blooming over his cheeks. "Merci," he told her, going upstairs to his room.

He loved it when his mother praised his French. He loved how happy it made her, and he knew it reminded her of his father, as was obvious whenever she compared him to her ex-husband. Sometimes he wondered if his father would come back to them if he found out how good Matthew's French was becoming, and how prettily it made his mom smile to hear it.

A smile still played across his lips as he entered his room, the shadows already lengthening. One of the walls was covered in dart boards. It was another of the things that made him feel easy—playing darts and improving his aim.

But he wasn't going to play just now.

He sat on the bed as he finished typing out a new entry. "3:40 pm (Home): Made mother smile today. She really loves French, just like she still loves Father," he typed, and snapped his phone shut.

Yes, he loved to be a bystander, even if it meant being isolated from other kids his age. Still, that didn't mean he was friendless. He had two great friends that he saw every day. In fact, he would go see them now.

He wrapped the blanket around him so that it covered his entire body, pulled his knees to his chest. Yes, he still had friends, even if they were only in his imagination.

Matthew closed his eyes, his cheeks light pink from anticipation.

When he next opened them, his bed had moved. Now he was sitting in a huge, circular room, with a roof that resembled a half-completed dome. An amorphous mass of grays and blacks replaced the ceiling. The walls were bare of any trace of his room. Directly in front of him was a giant of sorts, with a head that was nothing but a human skull whose chin was too long and too square. There were sharp protrusions at the back of his head, resembling a crude model of spindly hair. Other than that, the giant resembled a very large man, fifty times larger than Matthew, clothed in all black.

It took the giant a while before he noticed Matthew.

"Oh, look, it's Matthew," he observed, pausing from messing with the complicated-looking controls of some strange machine that was impossibly hanging from the nonexistent ceiling. "Just one moment, I'm currently adjusting the Law of Cause and Effect."

Matthew blinked as he wiggled out of the blanket, infinitely curious when it came to his imaginary friends. "Does that mean something is going to happen?" he asked.

The giant's eyes sparkled mischievously. "You could say that the world will be turning into an exciting place," he replied.

Uh-oh. Matthew felt a nervous sweat beading on his forehead. If his friend was so excited, it was probably nothing good. After all, his friend was a _god_.

"When you talk about exciting stuff, wouldn't wars be it?" he asked, trying to think of something that would amuse a being of infinite existence.

The god waved him off, almost hitting Matthew with one of his too-long fingers. Matthew ducked just in time to avoid it.

"Please don't say such things, Matthew. This game is pretty interesting," he insisted.

Somehow, those words didn't make Matthew feel any better. He sighed and pulled out his cell phone. His friend, formerly Deus Ex Machina, was the Lord of Time and Space—a god of sorts, if you believed in such things. He wasn't one to take lightly, with his control over (obviously) time and space.

Still nervous, Matthew wrote, "3:45 pm (Home): Got home and met Deus. He's probably up to something again, better be careful."

"Diary, again?"

Matthew looked up from his phone, searching for the source of the question. His eyes landed on Murmuru—her bleach-blond hair as long as she was tall. She was holding an ear of corn, her eyes bright as she happily nibbled at the food.

"Ya sure have many things to write down, don't ya?" she asked. She hopped up onto his bed with a laugh. "Just kidding!" she said before he had a chance to answer, chomping on the corn.

"Hey! Don't eat on my bed!" he scolded. She ignored him. He looked at Deus for help with the god's servant, but Deus was busily messing with the strange machine again. Matthew sighed in resignation.

"Time, place, and incident," Matthew said, counting on his fingers. "I simply write down everything I see."

Murmuru studded eating her cheeks bulging with kernels. She looked up at Matthew as if he was crazy. Before he could ask what was wrong with her, she spit all the kernels at his head with accuracy.

"Hey!" he complained, protecting his head from the assault. If this wasn't just in his imagination, he'd worry about the damp corn sticking in his mop of hair.

"You're an idiot, aren't ya?" she said, pouted.

He rolled his eyes and shrugged. Matthew didn't see anything wrong with what he wrote, and he didn't really care for his imagination berating him for it either.

Suddenly, Murmuru grew serious. She dropped the uneaten corn into her lap, catching and holding Matthew's eyes with a piercing gaze. "So, it doesn't make any difference at all," she observed evenly.

There was no hint of disapproval in her voice. It was just an uncannily accurate statement. Then again, maybe it wasn't so strange, considering she was part of his subconscious. One would expect their own mind to be so insightful.

"That's right, my diary has no purpose. It's just a 'No Difference' diary," he said. Although his smile remained fixed on his face, his eyes grew sad. He barely registered that Deus had stopped working to watch him.

He stared at the last entry, suddenly depressed. Matthew had no dream; no goal. All he had was his diary and imaginary friends. It was a horribly saddening thought, and he closed his eyes to ward off the hot tears threatening to spill over his cheeks.

When Matthew opened them, he was back in his room. Alone. His smile had slid into a long frown. The long shadows engulfing his room, except for a single strip of light from his window, matched his mood perfectly.

"Are you feeling lonely?" It was Deus's voice in the back of his head.

"Not really," he lied, even though he knew it was impossible to consciously lie to your own mind.

"However, if you could change the situation, would you do it?" Deus pressed.

Matthew didn't answer, sinking deeper into his blanket-cocoon. However, Deus seemed to take that as answer enough. Matthew saw something in his peripheral vision, but didn't turn to look at what Deus was handing him.

"Let's see," Deus continued in a pondering tone. "I will entrust the future to you."

"How would you do that?" Matthew asked, curious enough to turn and see what Deus was handing him.

It was his cell phone.

"Isn't that my cell phone?" he asked, mirroring his thoughts as he reached to take it.

The second his fingers closed around the phone, he felt a strange spark somewhere within his chest. He blinked and looked at Deus, slowly pulling the strange gift away. Deus stared back, his face just as stoic as ever when he didn't want to reveal something.

"What are you scheming?" Matthew asked, trying to find some clue in Deus's deep, all-encompassing gaze.

When he found nothing, and Deus did not respond, Matthew looked away, curling into a ball underneath the blanket. "Never mind," he said as Deus sunk back into the shadows. "It's just my imagination anyway."

* * *

><p><strong>Translations:<strong>

**Bonjour: Hello**

**Maman: mom**

**Merci: Thank you**


	2. The Future Diary

4/22/20xx 6:57 (My Room)

Matthew felt well-rested when he woke up the next morning for school. He sat up, stretching his arms high above his head. His eye caught the little white teddy bear, sitting up in a chair pushed into the opposite corner of his room. The sight of it brought a tiny, hopeful smile to his lips every morning.

It had been a gift from his dad when he was about six. Before something—he didn't know what—went wrong, and his dad just suddenly left.

He had named the bear… What was it again? It had been so long since he was six. Kumanji? Kumakiko? Kuroki?

Ah, right, it was Kumajiro.

"Bonjour, Kumajiro," he greeted the polar bear toy.

As he expected, it remained silent and unmoving. But it just felt good to say good morning to _someone_, since his mom had probably already left for work. It wasn't that he didn't understand that she had to work, doing her best to support the two of them on her own, but it got awfully lonely much of the time.

He took out his cell phone. Might as well make his first entry for the day. However, when he opened the diary on his phone, he saw something strange, chilling even.

"Wh—what's this?" he stammered in a low voice.

All his previous entries had been erased. In their place was a set of entries labeled "April 22nd". He bit his lip, unnerved by the thought that, not only did someone or something erase the diary on his phone, but wrote a whole new one for the next—he quickly scrolled through, counting the days—90 days.

"I… I suppose I must have wrote them in my sleep," he told himself, although he didn't quite believe the excuse. Even though he rarely moved in his sleep, let alone wrote coherent sentenced, it was the only logical explanation for it.

Maybe it was just a message from his subconscious mind… He read through the entries, moving his lips soundlessly as he scanned the lines of text.

'April 22nd:

6:59 (My Room): I hit a double bull this morning. A good omen.

7:05 (My House During Breakfast): Saw TV news about recent murder case. Crime scene seems to be nearby. Rumor has it that the killer is hiding out near my high school.

7:45 (On The Way To School): A rare encounter with Antonio and Lovina.

9:30 (Class 2-B): Surprise test in Math.

12:32 (Lunch Class 2-B): Said something rude to Antonio and Lovina.

14:05 (Home Economics Room): Bella cut her finger and went up to the nurse's office.

16:12 (On The Way Home): Questioned by the police over the recent murder case.'

He chewed his lip for a while, mulling over the changed diary. Finally, he snapped his cell phone shut, tossing it on the bed.

"Oh, whatever. It's no good worrying about it, right Kumajiro?" The bear stayed frozen in silent agreement.

Matthew nodded to himself, standing up. "Anyway, ready for some fortune-telling dart throws?" Still the bear remained silent, but he supposed that if Kumajiro could move, it would nod.

He picked up two darts. "Watch this, I'm going to throw two at once," he said, and the bear watched him as he threw them both with one hand.

The needles stuck into the red center of the dart board. Matthew grinned, silently congratulating himself. This meant today was going to be good. He began to walk over to his bed so he could log it into his diary, when he froze. His heart dropped into his stomach as he realized that a double bulls-eye was exactly what was predicted in his diary.

He glanced nervously at the clock. It was 6:59, just like in the entry. He chewed his lip again, freaked out by the coincidence.

But no, it was a coincidence, and that's all it was. "One similar entry isn't enough to prove anything," he said aloud, trying to convince himself that that's what it was—a fluke.

Still, maybe he'd take Kumajiro down to breakfast with him.

So, with his arms wrapped tightly around the teddy bear, Matthew descended the stairs, looking and feeling much like a little kid again. What did it matter, though, when he didn't even have friends to tease him about it?

There was a plate of bacon and eggs and pancakes sitting on the table, along with a little note. He smiled at the already-cold food, knowing that his mom must have gotten up extra early to make him breakfast. He looked at the note.

'Have a nice day, my handsome son! I've made you breakfast, so make sure to eat all of it, or you'll never grow up big and strong!

I love you: Mommy'

His smile grew. He loved his mom very much, even if she sometimes insisted that he call her 'mommy'. 'Maman' was a good compromise to that.

Matthew took the plate to the sink, scraping away the bacon and eggs. He put the pancakes in the microwave and went to the pantry to pull out a bottle of maple syrup. When he got home from school, he'd have to take out the trash, so his mom wouldn't see that he only at the pancakes. He hated both bacon and eggs, and wished his mom would remember that. But she was busy, and kind enough to make him breakfast, so he wasn't about to complain to her about it. It'd only hurt her feelings.

A couple minutes later, he sat at the table, Kumajiro seated in the chair beside him. The bear's ears just barely cleared the top of the table. Matthew drowned his pancakes in the syrup, turning the TV on. He watched it more out of habit than actual interest, stuffing his mouth with pancake.

"The murder case, which happened yesterday morning…"

Matthew froze, staring at the TV screen. Murder case…? The words caught his attention. The newscaster drove onward, as if he barely cared about his own words. He glanced at the time. 7:05, just like in the diary…

"From the method of killing and condition, it is believed to be the work of the same mysterious serial killer who mainly targets Sakurami Street," the man droned on. "Another murder takes place once again."

Sakurami Street… That was a little too close for comfort.

Yet, he actually felt a tad relieved. It was close, but that wasn't exactly what his entry said. It must have been a coincidence after all. He took a bite of pancake, feeling his tense muscles relax.

But the man wasn't finished speaking yet. "The culprit is believed to be hiding somewhere near the high school."

Matthew gasped, immediately choking on his pancakes. He beat his chest wildly, coughing and hacking, trying to breathe.

When he finally cleared the obstruction from his throat, it took a long time for him to catch his breath. It was a coincidence, just a coincidence. An uncanny coincidence, but a coincidence all the same.

The more he repeated the word, the less meaning it seemed to hold.

He took a deep breath, pushing it from his mind. No, it was better to just not think about it. Trying unsuccessfully to block it from his mind, he went upstairs to get ready for school.

* * *

><p><span>422/20xx 7:42 (On The Way To School)

Matthew was still telling himself that it all was a coincidence as he went to school that day. And looking at the entry for 7:45, he knew that this will prove for sure that everything before just happened by chance. After all, there was no way he'd encounter Lovina or Antonio at all. Both of them went to school an hour earlier than everyone else to participate in some athletic club. Sometimes it was track, other times basketball, and other times even soccer.

Either way, there was no way he'd run into them.

"Come on, bastardo! We can still make track practice if you _hurry_!"

The angry yell made Matthew freeze in his tracks, his mouth shaped in a little 'o'. No way. There was just no way.

Then two figures zoomed past him. One was a medium-height Italian girl, with long, wavy, brunette hair. Her feet pounded against the pavement as she ran at top speed. She didn't appear to care that her outfit—a short, red dress—fluttered up dangerously high behind her. Just behind was a taller Spanish boy, although with the way he slumped forward as he ran, he might as well have been the girl's height. From the glimpse Matthew caught of his face, he looked as if he didn't really want to be running to school. His messy, dark brown hair further cemented that fact.

"But, Loooviiii!" he breathlessly called to her. "Can't we skip track just for _one _morning?"

She looked back at him over her shoulder, never slowing down. Her green-brown eyes flashed furiously. "No way! Now get _moving_, you lazy ass!"

The duo disappeared up the street, Lovina clearing the way by either pushing into people, or shouting so viciously the throng jumped to get out of her way. People stared as they passed. So did Matthew, but for a completely different reason.

He glanced at the time on his phone. 7:45, right on schedule to the very minute. The wiry-haired boy swallowed hard, fiddling nervously with his glasses. It was getting a lot harder to convince himself that this was all a coincidence.

* * *

><p>The rest of the day unfolded exactly as his diary told him it would. In Math class, there was a surprise quiz. Not only that, but the answers were even recorded in his cell phone. It unnerved him, of course, but Matthew had never been good at math, and he couldn't help but feel a small bit of relief. He copied the answers down quickly, watching his teacher to make sure he wasn't caught cheating. It would be tough to explain if anyone saw his cell phone.<p>

At lunch, Antonio popped up next to him.

"Hola, Matthew. I haven't talking to you in forever~!" he said cheerfully, although his green eyes were focused on the door.

Before Matthew could say anything, Lovina appeared at the door. "Antonio, you bastard! Where did you go?" she shouted, causing the entire class to turn and stare at her.

Antonio jumped, looking like a frightened rabbit. He dove underneath the desk. "Mind if I sit here? Good, gracias!" he said, curling into a ball.

Unfortunately, underneath a desk in a nearly empty room isn't the best hiding place in the world, and Lovina spotted him immediately. She stomped over to them, pushing aside desks that weren't even in her way.

"Antonio, I told you that we're playing soccer today with Bella and Michelle!" she said haughtily, crossing her arms.

The Spaniard peeked up at her from under the table. "But I don't what to play soccer with all of you. You all kick the ball _hard_," he said, with a fearful tremble in his voice.

Lovina stamped her foot. "Shut up, don't be such a wimp! You're a man, so _act_ like it!" Matthew's eyes twitched. He wasn't in the mood to put up with these two.

Antonio didn't respond, distracted by something else. "U—um, Lovi? You might want to stand in… some other way." When she looked confused, he hurried on. "I can see your underwear when you stand like that."

The effect was immediate. Lovina leapt backward, knocking into a desk and nearly tripping over it. "You—you…" Her face was a dark red, although Matthew wasn't sure whether it was from indignation, embarrassment, anger, or all three.

"I'm going to kill you, bastardo!" she shrieked, starting forward. Antonio 'eep'ed and flinched.

"Will you two _quit it_? You're so _annoying_," Matthew snapped.

Both Antonio and Lovina froze in place. They stared at Matthew in shock. Had this quiet, unassuming boy just call them annoying?

Lovina huffed, pouting and crossing her arms. "Hmph, whatever. Let's go, Antonio," she said, turning and leaving the room without looking back.

Antonio crawled out from under the desk, a concerned look on his face. Matthew grimaced, realizing his words must have actually hurt Lovina if the happy-go-lucky Spaniard looked like that. Before Matthew could apologize, Antonio left, and Matthew was left feeling more invisible, and miserable, than ever.

Besides that, in Home Ec, a tall blond girl, whom Matthew knew as Bella, cut her finger while trying to slice tomatoes. The teacher made her leave to go to the nurse, despite her protests that she simply _needed_ to learn to make paella for her precious friends. Matthew wasn't sure what 'paella' was, but if it involved tomatoes, it was probably for either Antonio or Lovina. Those two were tomato-loving freaks.

Remembering the way he snapped at them, Matthew bit his lip guiltily.

After school, as he walked home, alone as usual, the police stopped him to ask him a few questions.

"Don't worry, you're not in trouble. We just have to ask you a few questions," the shorter, mousy-haired man assured him when they stopped Matthew.

The other, obviously an albino with pale skin, pale hair, and red eyes, stepped in front of him. "Let me handle this, Toris. The awesome me doesn't need a partner for this." Then he gave the most obnoxious laugh Matthew had ever heard in his life.

Toris sighed, as if this kind of thing happened a lot. "Please, sir, let's _try_ to be more professional this time."

"When is the awesome Gilbert Bielschmidt ever unprofessional?" the albino demanded.

From the sigh Toris gave, apparently that was a lot of the time.

* * *

><p>When Matthew got home, he decided that he should probably ask Deus. After all, his imaginary friend had given him the cell phone, which was when this whole thing started.<p>

Since his mother wasn't home, he went straight upstairs without a single greeting. Ignoring the loneliness gnawing at his chest, he sat down, closed his eyes, and quickly drifted deep into his mind. When he opened his eyes again, Deus was there and Murmuru by his side.

"Welcome back, Matthew," Deus said.

Without returning the greeting, he held up his cell phone. "What is this? My diary is gone. Now it has all these entries from the future," he demanded to know.

"That's right," Deus replied, matter-of-factly. "It's a diary that tells the future. A Future Diary."

Matthew gulped. It was true that he'd figured it out already, but a small part of him was hoping that Deus would deny it.

"B—but, Deus… Aren't you just in my imagination? As a God of time and space?" he asked nervously, still hoping for denial.

Once again, he was disappointed. Deus fixed him with an unnerving stare. "If I'm a God, is it not possible for me to exist both inside and out of your imagination?"

Matthew felt like he was going to be sick. No, this couldn't be true. There was just no way. But… He thought of his mysterious diary entries. It had to be true. As illogical as it seemed, there was just no other way. He felt a bubble of panic rise in him.

Suddenly he felt a hand on his shoulder. He jumped, but it was just Murmuru, patting his shoulder consolingly. He allowed himself to relax. Perhaps having this diary wouldn't be so bad. In any case, it couldn't hurt to know the future, he thought.

Until Deus continued to speak.

"However, keep in mind that this diary has a flaw. You must protect this diary with your life, because the Future Diary is destroyed, so is the holder's future. In other words…" Deus paused to fix Matthew with a deathly serious gaze. Matthew's throat felt dry.

"You will die."

* * *

><p>Despite Deus's grave warning, Matthew did his best to make the best out of the situation. With the Future Diary, he was able to get answers to all his exams. By cheating—or rather, as he told himself, by using his resources—he managed to go from being the lowest score to the very top of his class with perfects in all subjects. He even beat model student Ivana Braginsky. Now everyone knew him. After all, Ivana had never gotten second in any subject, so Matthew's name was everywhere.<p>

He was no longer invisible.

With his Future Diary, Matthew could walk around school with his head held high. Of course, many people became jealous of his new position. They whispered behind his back, questioning how such an idiot could suddenly attain genius status. His carefree attitude pissed them off.

Some even went so far as to seek to beat him up. Matthew, obviously, saw it coming with his diary, and he was careful to take another root to school. Sitting in class that day, he could barely suppress a laugh.

Matthew Williams, former idiot, no longer invisible and now untouchable! Inwardly, he laughed at his classmates who had mocked him before, feeling superior to those still blind to the future. He felt proud that Deus gave him such a special gift. Him and him alone.

'Fools,' he thought with a smirk. 'There's no way you can outsmart me in a million years, now that I've got this diary. If only you could all realize what I'm thinking now!'

Someone in front of him turned suddenly. His eyes locked on to the stunning violet eyes of Ivana Braginsky. He froze. She gave him a knowing smile and turned back to the front, now rummaging through her bag. Her long, platinum blond hair blocked her face from his view.

'Did… Did she really read my mind?' The assumption was preposterous, but Ivana had seemed so smug, like she knew more about him than Matthew knew about himself. And since his Future Diary existed, why not mind reading, too?

Ivana set down her bag, now holding a piece of clay. The teacher saw her and frowned. "Miss Braginsky, you should play with that stuff in class," he said.

She stopped, and looked up at him with a honey-sweet smile. "Don't worry, sir. It's just a mental exercise," she said.

Any other student would have had the clay confiscated. But this was _Ivana Braginsky_, the (former, now with Matthew using his resources) top student in every subject. And strikingly beautiful as well. So the teacher nodded, and continued to teach the class.

As Ivana molded her clay, ignoring Matthew for the rest of the period, he allowed himself a sigh of relief. It must have been a coincidence.

Matthew was last out of the room after school that day. He shouldered his bag, taking his time stretching. As he passed Ivana's desk, he stopped in his tracks. The finished clay model had been left there.

And it was a miniature sculpture of Murmuru.

There was a buzz of static from his phone. He looked down at the Future Diary. Was the future… changing? Then it cleared, replaced with a single entry. Matthew felt the world stop spinning, his heart frozen mid-beat, as he read the text.

'18:21 (Inside a School Building): Chased by the serial killer and was killed. DEAD END'

"Wh—what? No way! It can't be! This… This future is…" Matthew's body began to tremble violently. There was no way this was true. But… Everything else had come true, so…

"Of course."

Matthew nearly fainted at the sound of the voice. Ivana Braginsky. Slowly, Matthew turned to face her.

She had that same, sweet smile from class on her lips. But something was different. Her violet eyes now held a slightly crazed look, and her mouth was slightly open, like she was lightly panting in excitement.

"It's your future," she said, matter-of-factly.

No way. Ivana Braginsky… She was the serial killer!

Matthew's mind went blank. Before he knew it, he was running, right out of the room and down the hall. And even though he'd done nothing but try to escape, there was the sound of static as his future changed yet again.

He looked at his cell phone. Sure enough, the 'DEAD END' was gone. How did that happen?

'18:09 (Street): It's no good, I can't seem to get away from her.

18:13 (Street): There is a building under construction nearby. Seem to have lost her, finally able to catch my breath.

18:15 (Inside Building): Got inside elevator.'

Suddenly, the taller girl appeared from around the corner. Her hair had become messy from running, and her scarf, always entwined about her neck even in the summer, had come undone.

"You can't run from me, little Matthew~!" she said in a sing-song voice.

Matthew jumped back with a yelp. How did she get past him? He'd left the school building first!

He turned and ran the other way. His best bet was to follow his Future Diary now. It said he lost her when he hid in the construction building, so that's where he went.

As he ran, he tried to gather his scattered thoughts. There was no way anyone but him should be capable of doing this! So, why was he being chased down?

'Think, Matthew, think!'

But it was no good. His brain just couldn't grasp an answer.

He made it into the elevator and jammed his finger against the number 14. It was a good thing that the building was far enough along that it had a working elevator.

The sound of static. He looked down at his phone. 'C—could it be…'

The doors stopped closing. Ivana jammed herself in between the elevator doors, eyes wide and crazy.

A sadistic grin played across her lips. "Haven't you figured it out yet, Matthew~?"

Matthew felt tears spring up to his eyes, making his glasses completely useless. "C—could it be that… that you're another Future Diary holder?"

He never wanted a denial as badly as he did right then.

In answer, she held up her cell phone. No way…

She grabbed one of his wrists and pinned it against the elevator wall.

'She's… she's going to kill me.'

His tears were freely flowing now.

'That's right. I have a dart in my bag.'

He felt his fingers of his free hand wrap around the dart. It would be easy, just to stab through that diary, and run.

But… Something was wrong. She could easily hold down both his hands, but she didn't. If she was a Future Diary holder, she'd know what he was about to do. Yet, she left his hand, the one with free access to his bag, alone. It was almost as if… As if…

As if she was giving him the choice.

And with that knowledge, he knew he couldn't do it. He couldn't stab her.

All at once, Ivana's eyes softened, and her lips curled into a genuine, pleasant smile. She looked grateful even.

"You didn't stab me," she whispered, as if half-amazed by it herself.

"Huh?" he began, but before he could form a coherent question, her lips were on his.

Her lips were so hot against his—so wrong, but so right at the same time—and the metal so cold against his back. His overwhelmed mind spun sickeningly. This was all too much! Just an hour ago, everything was completely normal, and now he was going to die!

_ She _was going to kill him! Wasn't she?

Even with this knowledge, the uncertainty, the confusion, all he could register was the mind-numbing fear of death and, strangely, how soft her plump lips were against him. Was this how it was going to end? With his first and last kiss, over in a flash.

He couldn't understand any of it!

As if reading his thoughts, she broke away, a smile playing on her lips, swollen from her sudden kiss.

"You didn't stab me," she whispered, her rough, but not unpleasant hands cupping the sides of his face. "That is the _future_."

"The… future?" Matthew felt dizzy. He couldn't comprehend what was going on. Why did she kiss him? Wasn't she the serial killer?

Again reading his thoughts, she shook her head. "There's one other thing you got wrong, Matthew," she said, glancing outside through the elevator window. Matthew looked, too.

A lone man stood on the ground floor, looking right up into Matthew's eyes. He had a piercing brown gaze and neat black hair. A long katana was in the man's right hand. Matthew couldn't suppress a chill at the man's cold, deadly stare.

"_He _is the serial killer reported on the news recently," Ivana said. All of the crazed playfulness in her voice was gone, replaced by the same deadly cold in the stranger's eyes. "He is the third Future Diary holder."

"Th—the third?"

Ivana nodded, so serious that Matthew didn't even consider doubting her. "I already know that little Matthew will be killed by him."

She opened up her cell phone. Matthew's eyes automatically found the bottom entry. '18:20: Matthew was killed on the building's 14th floor.' He swallowed hard.

"This is my Future Diary."

Matthew scanned the other entries. "W—wait! Why are they all about me?" he exclaimed, taking a step back, although there was nowhere to run now.

Ivana looked directly into his eyes, her soft smile returning. "That's because my diary is the Matthew Diary. It shows me little Matthew's future every ten minutes. A Future Diary of love!" Matthew could just barely hear the insanity edging into his voice.

The fear that had slightly ebbed came back with a vengeance. He bit his lip hard until he tasted blood. Just like his No Difference Diary had a theme, so did Ivana's Matthew Diary. Of course, the diaries must have the future about whatever the holder's future self would have written.

But that would mean…

Matthew backed right into the wall of the elevator, feeling cornered. No way. This girl… She was a _stalker_.

He wondered if it would be better to face the serial killer with the katana head on.

As he mulled over his thoughts, Ivana reached over and pressed another button. Floor 17.

"Hey! What are you doing?" Matthew protested.

Ivana dangled the cell phone in front of him, with that final entry. "We can't go to the 14th floor, or little Matthew will be killed," she said calmly. "Then you will be the first eliminated from the survival game!"

Matthew blinked at her, confused. "Survival?"

Ivana sighed heavily. "Looks like Matthew has been relying too much on his Future Diary." She leaned closer to him. "Danger will follow you no matter where you go, with every diary holder trying to take out each other, just like that guy is doing." She spoke as if he were a child.

The elevator reached the 17th floor. He turned to see where they had arrived.

"The roof? How will we get away from here?" There was nowhere to run! He looked back to her. She tricked him! There was no way he could survive if he stayed with her.

Ivana didn't seem to share his frantic concern. She stretched her arms high above her head, fixing her scarf. "Since that guy is a Future Diary hold, too, he'll chase us no matter where we go. Doesn't it feel so good to be outside, in the sunlight?"

Matthew felt himself sweating. Did she mean to trap him here just so they could die in a _nice_ place? He didn't want to die!

She glanced sideways at him, smiling playfully, like they were playing some great game. "Let's strike him first," she said.

He gaped. "You're kidding!" There's was no way two kids could take down a serial killer.

"I've got a plan," she said, nodding at his bag.

It took Matthew a couple seconds to process what she said. "A… plan?" He looked down at his bag.

The dart.

"It'll be the dart to decide your future," she said, the excitement clear in her voice. He wondered if she cared whether he lived or died, as long as he entertained her.

But… If they could destroy the third diary holder, then what did it matter? He couldn't keep running, that was for sure.

She saw that she had his attention. "So how about it, little Matthew? Are you in good shape today?"

* * *

><p>Minutes later, the elevator doors slid open. A short, serious man stepped out onto the roof. His hands tightened about the katana in anticipation. He glanced around the rooftop, and for a second, his cool eyes betrayed his shock.<p>

"Not here?" He couldn't believe it. His own Future Diary had told him that the two others were up here on the roof.

The man, who had taken countless other lives before, was determined to not allow these two children to be the only ones he allowed to escape.

He held his katana loosely with one hand, reaching for his cell phone with the other. It didn't matter where they were hiding. With his Murder Diary, he would know exactly where they were.

He opened his phone, and looked at the entry. And the serial killer immediately felt a mixture of surprise, confusion, and, for the first time, fear.

'8:24: The brat's dart destroys my diary. DEAD END'

He looked up just in time to see the boy, climbing back over the ledge of the roof. His hand was outstretched toward the man, as if he had thrown something. Then, at the last second, he saw it. The dart, before he had time to react, pierced through the cell phone. The machine fell apart in his hands.

No… NO!

The girl climbed back over as well, her lips forming a smile more sadistic than anything the serial killer had ever felt. "Well, let's see what happens."

The effect was almost instant. The man felt like his insides were being torn apart. For the first time since he had started murdering, he let out a terrible scream of pain. This was worse than anything he had felt in his life. This was the pain of being wiped from existence. The pain that no one but the diary holders would remember you.

NO!

Inside, he screamed louder than his voice could manage. His eyes caught on the boy's. The last thing he saw in his existence were the pale, frightened eyes of a hunted animal, accidentally turned hunter by some other force's trap.

And then he was gone.

Ivana pouted. "That's it?" She stretched. "How boring?"

Matthew stared blankly at her. Boring? They just watched a man being painfully ripped from time and space. How can you describe a horrific incident like that as _boring_?

She looked at him. "Well, I'm hungry now. Your mom isn't going to be home until late, right?"

He nodded, feeling tense and afraid, even though the killer was gone. Deep in the pit of his stomach, he felt that Ivana would be a more fearsome enemy than all the other diary holders combined.

"Deus, what is the meaning of this? I thought I was the only one with the Future Diary?" Matthew asked.

Both Matthew and Ivana had gone to his house. Since Ivana knew everything that did and would happen to Matthew, it was useless to lie to her. She stood behind him, quietly lurking in the shadows, as he spoke to Deus.

"I don't remember saying you were the only one," Deus said evenly.

Matthew couldn't say anything back. He bit his lip, feeling a sudden anger surge through him. He almost _died_, all because Deus went and pulled this little stunt without informing Matthew. Like he apparently informed all the other diary holders.

"Oh, come now, don't be mad. It's all part of the game." For the first time, Deus gave a grand smile.

Once again, Matthew tasted blood as he chewed on his lip. "Game…?"

"The last person standing will become my successor. It's a survival game for the Future Diary holders."

Murmuru grinned, confirming Deus's words. Matthew staggered back a couple steps, dizzy and nauseous. He would be fighting for his life from now on, until either he or all the others were dead? He… he couldn't do that… But he had to, if he wanted to survive.

"That's alright," Ivana said.

Matthew turned to look back at his stalker. She was clutching her scarf and blushing shyly. If he wasn't so afraid of her, then he would find the way her pale cheeks colored rather pretty.

"I'll protect my little Matthew. You don't have to worry about a thing!"

And despite her reassurances—or perhaps because of them—her promise increased his anxiety.

* * *

><p><strong>Well, there's finally the first real chapter. I hope it went well. I'm trying to break from the manga enough so the Hetalia characters have their own personalities.<strong>

**Characters:  
>Ivana Braginsky=second diary holder, fem!Russia<br>Third Diary Holder=Japan  
>Lovina=fem!Romano<br>Antonio=Spain  
>Bella=Belgium<br>Michelle=Seychelles**

**Translations:  
>Bastardo (ItalianSpanish)=Bastard  
>Hola (Spanish)=Hello<br>Idiota (Italian/Spanish)=Idiot**


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